Pirating 101
by PepperF
Summary: Arrrrrrr. Silliness ahoy! It's International Talk Like A Pirate Day today, what more can I say?
1. Pirating 101

"Avast, me hearties! Last one to the poop deck's a scurvy son of a biscuit eater!" 

"Wha..? Jack, is that you? What time is it?"

"Sir?"

"O'Neill? What is wrong?"

"Up and at 'em, ye swabs! The grog's on to boil, and time be a-wastin' when thar be plunderin' and roisterin' and general wrong-doin' to be done!"

"Oh god, please tell me he's not-"

"Oh yes. He most certainly is."

"Kill me now, Daniel. I'm begging you."

"I do not understand."

"Well, it's a holiday of sorts, Teal'c-"

"Arrrrr! Ye scallywags! Ye be usin' lubber talk. Talk like the true followers of the sweet trade I knew ye to be at heart, or ye'll be gettin' a taste of the cat, so ye will! Aharrrr!"

"Sir-"

"Yes, wench?"

"...WENCH!"

"Uh, 'wench' be a good thing, me bux... matey. 'Tis an honorific for a strong woman. Here, have some coffee."

"...grrfflmflmble..."

"Nice save, Jack."

"Aye. Nearly hoist meself by me own petards there."

"Uh, I think one gets hoisted **on** a petard, Jack, not **by** the petards. It was a kind of-"

"That's Fiendish Cap'n Jack O'Nlythelonely of the Incorrigible Cliche to you, ye lubber."

"Cap'n?"

"Aye, me beau... matey?"

"So does that mean I outrank you?"

"Ah, I still be the leader of this rascally outfit, Major."

"Darn."

"What accent are you striving towards, exactly, J... Fiendish Cap'n Jack?"

"A piratical accent, me hearty! Have ye never watched The Crimson Pirate? Blackbeard's Ghost? Cutthroat Island?"

"Ah."

"I still do not understand. Why have you begun to talk in this peculiar manner, O'Neill? Is there something wrong with you?"

"Something I often ask myself."

"It'll be the gangplank for you in a minute, swabbie. Enlighten our good shipmate Teal'c the Turbulent, will you? I find meself in need of some more hot grog. All this pirate-talk gives me a turrible thirst."

"Grog is a term for-"

"Just do it, Daniel."

:sigh: "It's a celebration. International Talk Like A Pirate Day. See, pirates are... Hey, you've seen 'Pirates of the Caribbean', right?"

"Several times, Daniel Jackson."

"Well, that's... uh. Anyhow, so you know what pirates are, then. Well, in recent years someone started up an annual celebration, every September 19th. I think it started on the Net – Sam might know. And the idea is, everyone talks like a pirate for the day. This idea obviously appeals to Jack."

"Why?"

"Because he has a mental age of five?"

"Cat o' nine tails, Danny-boy."

"I meant, why does everyone wish to talk like a pirate?"

"Uh... Jack? Cap'n Jack? You wanna field that one?"

"Aye-aye. See, Teal'c, it's... fun."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Very well, O'Neill. How do I go about talking like a pirate?"

"Teal'c, you really don't have to-"

"Well, me hearty, there's certain words you need to practice. They be your pirate basics. For a start, there's arrrrrrrrrr."

"Ar?"

"No, **arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr**."

"Arrrrrrrrrrr."

"That'll do for now. That means... uh, well, it's sort of a general reply, like 'mmmm', or something you can say at the end of any sentence to give it more piratitude. Arrrrrrr!"

"Arrrrrrrrrrr."

"Very good. And instead of 'yes', say 'aye', or 'aye-aye', or if you're feeling really positive, 'aye-aye, Cap'n'."

"Aye-aye, Cap'n."

"Okay. Then there's 'avast!' That's..."

"It's a bit like 'kree'."

"Thanks, Danny. Yeah, so whenever you might, in the past, have said 'kree', instead today you say 'avast'. In the same sort of tone."

"**Avast!**"

"Yeah! Just like that, Teal'c. You okay, Carter?"

"I was just startled, sir. I'm fine. The coffee will wash out."

"My apologies, Major Carter."

"It's not you I blame, Teal'c."

"Uh. Good. Arrr. Okay, now you've mastered the basics. There's also various pirate insults. Pirates insult each other a lot. So, for instance, I might call Danny over here a lily-livered, gizzard-brained, mutinous son of a swamp witch."

"And I might call Cap'n Jack a pox-ridden, barnacle-bottomed, festering boil of a bilge rat."

"Good one, Danny. And I might call Carter a dockside doxie, saucy strumpet, and harpoon-happy harpy."

"And I might kick your ass. Sir."

"Oh, come on, Carter, get in the spirit. You have my full permission to insult me. Come on, Major - you know you want to."

"Okay. You – sir - are the scurviest, hornswaggliest Jack Tar ever to deserve to be lashed to the gunner's daughter, given a tickle of the rope's end, keelhauled, and dressed with a hempen halter."

"You tell him, Sam!"

"What did that mean, Major Carter?"

"Well, I basically told Colonel O'Neill that he was a disease-ridden cheat, and that he deserved to be tied to a cannon, beaten with a knotted rope, thrown overboard and dragged across the underside of the ship, and then hung by the neck. In, uh, pirate-speak."

"See, Teal'c? And I didn't take offence. At all. Because that's what pirates do – insult one another. Affectionately. Right, Major?"

"Whatever you say, sir."

"You are a clumsy idiot, O'Neill."

"...Stop laughing, Carter. T, buddy, I think you'd better leave the insulting until you've got a hang of the language. It needs to be a bit more florid. Think Goa'uld. Think fightin' talk. The more longwinded the better. Alliteration is your friend. We'll work on it. Be there any of that bilge water left, Carter?"

"Aye, Cap'n. And that's Cutlasshand Carter, Scourge of the SGC, to you, sir. Arrrr."

"Teal'c, ye should keep a weather eye on Daniel today, as the scurvy wharf rat is disinclined to listen to a word anyone says when he gets his deadlights on the booty, a.k.a. some rocks."

"Aye-aye, Cap'n."

"'Artefacts', Cap'n Jack."

"'Rocks', Danny."

"'Artefacts'. And today you may call me Dastardly Sir Daniel McBloodthirsty-Jackson, of the Scabrous Shrimp."

"Cool. Teal'c, henceforth you will be dubbed the Dread Pirate Teal'c the Turbulent, Terror of Tortuga. Ready to hoist anchor and set sail for seas unknown, Major?"

"Arrrrrrrrrrr."

"Arrrrr!"

"Arrrrrrrrrrrrr."

"Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

- THE END. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. ARRRRRRR.


	2. Reasons To Be Cheerful

_A/N: One year later. Title borrowed from Ian Dury and the Blockheads, but that has nothing to do with anything. _

---

It hadn't been the best year ever.

Daniel hadn't been around (in a physical form, anyhow) for most of it. They'd had an annoying replacement in Jonas... who Jack was now missing to a surprising extent. Teal'c had nearly died. Sam had nearly died. Jack _had _died - several times, in fact... and he really wasn't going to dwell on that. Skara was gone - as were all the people of Abydos. On the plus side, they'd saved Kelowna, and blown up Anubis's big, honkin' space gun.

He was weary, quite honestly, and giving some serious thought to going fishing. Like, for the rest of his life. It wasn't as though he hadn't earned it. The retirement letter was written - had been written for, oh, about three years now. But he hadn't signed it or handed it to Hammond, yet. He felt like he was waiting for something - but he wasn't sure what.

Jack sighed, shifting slightly in his sleeping bag. He was getting too old for this - too old to be spending half his nights camped outdoors on cold, hard ground, with rocks and tree roots poking him in the kidneys. Too old to be booking it from aliens brandishing everything from laser guns to sharp rocks, once a week or so. Too old to be holding back from the things he wanted, waiting for some unspecified future moment when it would all miraculously be okay, suddenly. Too old for... all this crap.

So why was he hesitating? Why hadn't he done the deed already and retired? No good reason, he concluded, lying there with his eyes closed, trying not to be awake yet. No damn good reason.

"Is he still asleep?" That whisper was Daniel - still the least stealthy of them, although he could sure kick ass for an archaeologist, nowadays. Obviously Daniel received some response from either Sam or Teal'c, because he asked no more questions.

It felt like they were up to something, and Jack's adrenaline kicked in, waking him up fully. He kept his eyes closed, his limbs lax, and his breathing slow and steady - but he suspected that Sam and Teal'c, at least, weren't fooled. Now the question was, should he take the initiative and surprise them - get up quickly and get away from whatever practical joke they had planned (not the easiest thing to do from a sleeping bag, but he'd had practice), or should he wait and see, and trust that his beloved team weren't about to dump a pan of cold water on his head? He couldn't remember offending any or all of them recently. Nothing that warranted serious retribution, anyhow. Well, there had been the incident with the shaken-up beer, but that was just his adorably childlike sense of humour... right?

Oh god, they were so about to drench him.

He should move. Move your ass, airman, he ordered. But a bizarre case of nerves kept him frozen in place. It felt like when he was a kid, playing Hide-and-Seek. God help him, but he was on the edge of... giggling? No way in hell. He did not - he _categorically _did not giggle. Like a girl. Goddammit.

He sensed movement next to him, and in the next instant he was halfway across the camp like a scalded cat, brandishing the nearest weapon to hand. His heart pounding, Jack stared at his team, all four of them arrested in a surprised tableau. Jack was the first to speak.

"What the f-?"

"Sir? Are you okay?" Daniel nudged Sam sharply in the ribs, and she corrected herself. "I meant, arrrr, be thou shipshape, Cap'n?"

Jack goggled at his Major. Sam, Teal'c, and Daniel exchanged sheepish glances.

"I, ah, think he's forgotten the day," said Daniel. "You can drop the MRE, Jack - it may well be lethal, but not as a blunt instrument. Arrr," he added, as an afterthought.

Jack lowered his weapon of choice - mushroom fettuccini. "What the...?" he tried again, staring at his team. Hats. They were wearing an assortment of pirate h... "Oh!" He pulled back the Velcro on his watch and checked the date. Oh! Aha!

"By Poseidon, I think he's got it!" Daniel grinned brightly at him.

Teal'c, who'd been about to drop a similar hat - although with slightly more elaborate frogging - on Jack, tossed the article to him. Jack caught it and straightened from his defensive crouch, examining it with admiration. It was definitely a pirate _captain's_ hat. It had a skull and crossbones, and a lot of gold lace. He put it on his head at a jaunty angle.

"Shipmates!" he shouted, throwing his hands out.

"Aye, Cap'n!" they chorused in perfectly-synchronised reply.

"Be there any grog for a thirsty sailor?" he asked. Sam - wearing a fetching red bandana printed with little black skull-and-crossbones, and, to Jack's admiration, big gold hoop earrings - handed him a mug of coffee, accompanied by a broad grin. "Teal'c, Gelder of Goa'uld, how fared the watches of the night?"

"'Twas quieter than a Frenchman's fart," rumbled Teal'c. They all stared at him, and he looked back serenely from under his eyepatch.

"O...kay," said Jack. "Dastardly Sir Daniel, what be our plans for the day?"

"Well, Cap'n Jack, the UAV's been a-whisperin' of dwellin'-places abaft the forest."

Jack looked to Sam for clarification. She checked her compass, and pointed off to her right. "We should set sail in an easterly direction, sir - uh, Cap'n," she said. "Full ten clicks, as the cannonball flies."

"Arr, it be a good thing that I be not wearin' me fancy pirate boots, then," said Jack, flexing his knees to get some life back into them after the night's chill. Sam quirked her eyebrows at him, and he gave her an inscrutable look in return. "Break out the victuals, me hearties, and be ready to weigh anchor for seas unknown at a quarter-past the hour, to find that spot marked 'x'."

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," came the reply.

His merry band of cutthroats set to with a will, and Jack grinned to himself, and began to hum the instructions for dealing with an inebriated son of the surf. Retirement? Ha! When there were fights to be fought, treasures to be won, and horizons to explore beyond?

Not a chance in hell.

----------

REALLY THE END THIS TIME.


	3. With Great Power

A/N: A snippet. Have a happy Talk Like A Pirate Day, folks.

-

"Cappuccino with an extra shot," said Daniel, glancing up from the book in his hand. Didn't commissary staff usually wear those little white hats? Not that there was anything wrong with a red bandana...

"Aye-aye."

He took his coffee, grabbed a plate and a Danish, and went to pay.

"That be one doubloon fifty," said the commissary worker manning the till. Daniel looked up, wondering if he was hearing things. "One dollar fifty," she said, a little more slowly. He handed over the money, took his change, and juggled the coffee and Danish as he grabbed a couple of napkins. As he made his way to a free table, he distinctly heard her mumble, "Arrrr."

Odd. Very odd.

"...asked the lubber, 'Is that a hornpipe in your britches, or are you..."

Daniel let the chattering airmen pass, and sat down at the table in the corner, dipping his nose back into his book and metaphorically pulling the duvet of obliviousness back over his head.

He emerged, blinking, some time later, to find the commissary mostly empty, and Jack sitting opposite him, eating cake.

"Ahoy," said Jack, licking icing off his fork.

Daniel absent-mindedly took a sip of coffee, realising a moment too late how cold it was going to be. But it was hot, so either a freak miracle had occurred and kept his coffee hot, or Jack had brought him a new cup and swapped it when he wasn't paying attention. "Ahoy?" Something clicked in his brain, at last, as the caffeine hit. "Oh, god, it's not..."

"Aye, 'deed it is," said Jack, attempting to dip a forkful of cake into his coffee. The cake, too absorbent to retain structural integrity, immediately disintegrated and fell off. "Arr," said Jack, regretfully, and peered down into the cup. Daniel frowned at him.

"Have you seen Sam or Teal'c?" he asked, instinctively calling for backup.

Jack gave him an odd look, and then dropped his gaze to the used plates that sat either side of Daniel. "Yarr," he said. "That be some good literature, huh?"

"Um, yes - I mean, aye." Daniel's eye was caught by the red bandanna of the kitchen guy again, and a dreadful thought struck him. "Jack... You didn't. Tell me you didn't..."

Jack blinked innocently at him. "Shipmate?"

"Jack-" Daniel cut himself off, stood up abruptly, and strode across to the notice board that was attached to the wall next to the commissary door. "JACK!" He flailed his hands in the air as he walked back. "You're a general now!"

Jack put down his fork and leaned back with a sigh, linking his hands across his stomach. "Aye. So?"

"So you've got to act maturely! Like a grown-up! Heading the SGC is a responsibility, not a - a game! You can't use your powers to institute Talk Like A Pirate Day across the whole base! And say that anyone who doesn't comply will be made to walk the plank into a wormhole! It's not - it's - you can't DO that!"

Jack grinned - a broad, lazy grin, that would have gone perfectly with a parrot and an eyepatch. "Whatever I want, Daniel," he said. "Whatever I want."

Daniel clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. He was never going to live that remark down. Never.

-

ARRRRR.


End file.
